The music cut off. A hush fell over the crowd. Lexi Luna, standing center stage in front of her extravagant four-tiered cake, knife in hand and photographers ready, had just raised her arm to slice the first piece.
THUNK.
A sharp, metallic noise echoed as a dagger embedded itself deep into the heart of the cake. Cream splattered across the white tablecloth. The blade quivered.
Gasps rippled through the party like a tsunami. The guests, stunned out of their champagne stupor, turned in unison toward the direction of the throw.
Standing at the edge of the red carpet was a tall woman, around thirty, wrapped in silver robe-like armor. Her figure exuded command. Beside her stood seven women in pristine white robes, arranged like pillars of judgment. Each of them had her hair tied into a tight bun, with a slender wand-like wooden stick inserted into it like a sacred ornament.
Someone near the entrance muttered, "Forbidden Soul Sect…"
That whisper lit the fuse.
"What the hell—?"
